100 days: Day 6

06/12/2009

Stroppy Dave.

It had been a really long night. Dave was spent, as was his threshold for being really bad at poker. He surveyed the table, the chips that clustered around the ashtrays and beer stained place settings of his opponents and the empty space that mockingly sat before him. He excused himself with the absolute minimum of pleasantries and was on his way.

He hit the cold night air and let out a vitriolic swear at everything he was aware of. He stormed towards his car, violent thoughts rushing through his pulsating head. It was going to be a long, sweaty, sleepless night in his bedsit.

He arrived at the car and groaned at the layer of the frost that would probably be the death of his ailing motor. He removed his keys from his pocket and promptly dropped them on the ground. The procession of expletives that followed caused a few lights to click into life in the neighbouring buildings. Dave resumed a contained rage. He knelt down to retrieve his keys. Reaching the tarmac he noticed something glinting in the moonlight. A pound coin. He picked it up and looked at it for a moment and with a sprightly motion popped it in his pocket. Things were looking up.